Page 89 of Electric Touch

Nash curses and shifts in the seat. He genuinely looks as though he is about to jump out of a moving vehicle. I won’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to. Coney Island isn’t just a fairground. He’ll see for himself when we get there.

“Blake, could you take us to the Halfway Diner on Eighth and Jane?” When he confirms he knows it, he pulls seamlessly into New York city traffic. Even at this hour, it’s picking up. I sit back and continue my conversation with Nash. “You don’t have to go on it if you don’t want to. There are plenty of other things to do at Coney Island.”

“Yeah, sure… So this diner, it’s open now?”

“It’s twenty-four hours and does the best short stacks you’ve ever tasted. Today is going to be fun. You can be a regular guy, going on a day out.” I glance at the back of Blake’s head. “With a bodyguard.”

“You won’t even know I’m there,” Blake says.

“Maybe you could go on the Cyclone with me,” I query.

“Isn’t that thing a hundred years old?” he asks.

“It was built in 1927, so you’re almost right. It was refurbished and reopened in 1974, so they updated it.”

“Sure, fifty years ago is so updated,” Nash mutters.

“It’s a New York City landmark.”

“Still not going on it,” Nash shakes his head.

“I’ll think about it,” Blake chuckles.

“Excellent. It’s eighty-five feet in height and goes around sixty miles an hour.”

“I’d quit while he’s thinking about it, Adrestia,” Nash has an amused smile on his face. “Fifty years old, eighty odd feet and goes that fast,” he shudders.

“It’ll be fun.”

“More like hell.”

We sit in companionable silence as Blake makes his way to the diner. Just before we get there, Nash looks over at me.

“You’re sure there are no clowns there?”

“Hmm,” I take out my phone and pull up the Coney Island logo, then show it to him.

“Oh fuck no.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

My hat is firmly covering my head, and my sunglasses are hiding most of my face. An order Blake warned I had to follow while he got on the Cyclone with Adrestia. Luckily, I’ve remained incognito for the whole adventure, even though the place is packed with families and teenagers. It’s no hardship wearing the hat and glasses. It’s warm and really sunny.

Maybe I’ve watched the Lost Boys too many times. I was expecting Coney Island to look like the boardwalk in Santa Carla. That is not the case. There are definitely no oiled up, long-haired saxophone players dancing around. Much to Adrestia’s dismay when I told her what I’d been expecting. And, despite the fear, no clowns. You couldn’t say the logo was a proper clown. More a scary, smiley, freaky as fuck face. I shudder at the thought.

We’ve spent the last three hours wandering and not got bored once. There is a lot to see and do here. She’s dragged me on some rides. We’ve eaten a ton of junk food. And she’s recited the history of the entire park. Even Blake was impressed.

I can’t help but laugh when Blake and Adrestia come back. While waiting for them, I got a coke. Partly because it’s hot, but mostly for the caffeine boost. I have one for Adrestia. Blake has declined a drink any time I’ve offered, carrying his own water bottle.

Adrestia is practically skipping as they walk towards me. Her face is flushed and her eyes bright. She looks the way she does right after she comes. Is this ride really that exciting for her? I wonder about pulling her behind one of these buildings to find out.

Blake looks less happy. He’s followed us around most of the morning, keeping to himself, or trying too. Adrestia can’t help but keep dragging him in to the conversation. He stopped reminding her he is supposed to be inconspicuous and went with it in the end. It’s funny seeing this tough bodyguard looking like he’s gonna hurl after a ride on a rollercoaster. Rather him than me. He’s a hell of a lot braver than I am.

“Have fun?” I ask Blake.

“Tons.”

“Ah, come on,” Adrestia nudges his biceps with her elbow at his deadpan response. “Although he was screaming like a girl.”

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